Clothes
      Friends
     
    
   
   
    
     
      I
      have
      to
      fold
      right
      down
      the
      crease
     
    

    
     
      For
      fear
      that
      your
      friendship
      will
      come
      to
      cease.
     
    

    
     
      It
      doesn’t
      matter
      how
      I
      truly
      do
      feel,
     
    

    
     
      Your
      friendship,
      like
      pleather,
      just
      isn’t
      real.
     
     
      Sometimes
      I
      think
      I’m
      an
      outfit
      you
      bought,
     
    

    
     
      Worn
      to
      be
      cool
      for
      that
      look
      that
      you
      sought.
     
    

    
     
      If
      I
      get
      torn
      or
      begin
      to
      show
      wear,
     
    

    
     
      You
      just
      toss
      me
      aside,
      and
      you
      grab
      the
      next
      spare.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      So
      sorry,
      you’re
      too
      gaunt,
      I
      don’t
      seem
      to
      fit.
     
    

    
     
      You
      walk
      away
      now,
      don’t
      you
      dare
      try
      to
      sit.
     
    

    
     
      I’ve
      spent
      enough
      down
      time,
      that
      I’ve
      come
      to
      see,
     
     
      That
      you
      all
      are
      just
      assholes
      polluted
      with
      pee.
     
     
      Don’t
      set
      this
      aside,
      as
      just
      one
      of
      my
      rants.
     
    

    
     
      I’m
      telling
      you
      now;
      I
      will
      not
      be
      your
      pants.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      My
      whole
      world
      was
      awfully
      falling
      apart,
     
    

    
     
      I
      lost
      all
      control,
      life
      unraveled
      my
      heart.
     
    

    
     
      I
      was
      standing
      alone
      in
      a
      cold
      winter
      storm
     
     
      Seeing
      my
      close
      wooly
      friends
      weren’t
      so
      warm.
     
     
      When
      big
      parka
      hugs
      are
      so
      bad
      what
      I
      need
     
    

    
     
      I
      stand
      here
      alone,
      on
      pink
      silk
      I
      do
      bleed.
     
    

    
     
      We
      gee
      thanks
      a
      lot,
      a
      new
      style
      I
      did
      learn.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      When
      a
      friend
      is
      in
      pain,
      you
      just
      leave
      them
      to
      burn.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      I’m
      going
      to
      wear
      fur
     
     
      You
      might
      think
      it
      is
      cruel,
     
     
      But
      just
      like
      the
      wolf,
     
     
      My
      cold
      fashion
      does
      rule.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      —Matilda
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      [19],